


That One Guy in Juniors

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Drunk Hookups, Five Times, M/M, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or </p><p>Five Times Belc Helped the Narrative Along and One Time It was Already There</p><p>or</p><p>"Yeah, I know about that, it happened to a teammate when I was in Juniors."</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Guy in Juniors

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to my patient betas, Z. and [Chibirhm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiRHM/pseuds/ChibiRHM) who let me fuss at them about this, and S. who looked over the Sidney Crosby section. 
> 
> This can be read as a stand alone fic, but it started off as an idea on tumblr. Much inspiration for this fic also came from everyone who played with the concept and added something on to the Adventures of Belc. It wouldn't be as much fun without you guys.

1) 

Belc currently uses male pronouns. Technically Belc is an anthropomorphic personification of narrative causality and pronouns don’t really apply, but they help him get in character. He doesn’t have a name either, but he likes Belc. Since his assignments won’t _really_ remember him, just a vague memory of that one time in juniors, it’s easier for him to keep the name and pronouns the same each time. It’s less confusing and helps him focus on what he’s there to do. 

So regardless of the breasts he’s currently sporting and despite the fact that most of the Mobile Mystics got an eyeful when he transformed in the showers earlier, Belc thinks that it makes sense for him to hang on to the male pronouns. 

“Clint man, it’s going to be okay,” Belc says earnestly. As far as Clint can remember they’ve played on the same team for the last season, and Belc drove Clint home two nights ago after they got back from a game at 1 AM. “This happens sometimes, but I need you to run to my place to grab some stuff that I’ll need until I turn back.” 

Belc rattles off a list, and then makes sure that Clint writes it down. It’ll stick in his memory better, and he’ll have to remember it years from now, when Patrick Kane turns into a girl between the second and third periods of a Blackhawks' home game. Sometimes equipment guys run into things that are more difficult than skates and pads, but Belc feels like Clint can be trained up to the task. 

2) 

He decides to go with English, because he speaks fluent French (Russian, Telugu, Swedish, Swahili, Mandarin, Basque, Arabic, Esperanto, Parseltongue, Gallifreyan, Sindarin, Klingon, and Dothraki, among millions of others) but getting Sidney to pay attention to something that involves feelings rather than hockey is going to be difficult enough without a language barrier.

“I know it’s a bit early,” Belc says, looking down to the name scrawled across this version of his wrist, “but she’s okay with waiting to seal the bond. We both want to focus on our careers right now, you know?” 

Belc’s “soulmate” is also 17, and she wants to be a pediatric surgeon. Or at least that’s what Belc told Sidney when he was wearing his Ophélie body last week. Her family is hoping for a nice boy from Quebec, while Belc is (supposedly) from Sault Ste Marie and barely passed his last French exam. Belc figures he should probably draw as many parallels to Sid’s eventual situation as he can. Sid’s so determined that he won’t bond that Belc wants to make sure the roadmap to success is crystal clear. It gives him fewer outs for when he does met his soulmate. If this conversation doesn’t make inroads Belc, aka Ophélie, will have the same discussion with Sidney at a team after party tomorrow. Maybe repetition will get him where dead obviousness won’t. 

“We can have a bond and still be ourselves, you know? It’s important, sure, but we don’t have to reject it just because we want to do other things too.” Belc watches Sidney retape his stick out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m glad, buddy,” Sidney says with a nod, clearly focused on the upcoming breakfast rather than how this’ll one day apply to his own life.

Belc sighs. He’s going to have to brush up on his Quebecois accent after all. 

3) 

Girls’ locker rooms don’t smell much better than boys'. As a hedgehog, Belc’s primary sense is smell, but right now she super, super wishes it wasn’t. When Belc turns back she’s having words with Packer about her under armour, because it’s rank.

She finally waddles her way over to Hilary’s equipment bag and stands on top of her gloves. She’s dragged over her jersey as well, and Hilary better appreciate how much effort it took. Hedgehog jaws are not built for that sort of task.

“Hey cutie, how’d you get in here?” Hilary reaches out and automatically uses the baby voice people assume with small children and tiny animals. 

Belc bristles up so Hilary can’t pick her up, and then trots over to spread out the name on the back of her jersey.

“No, don’t touch that, that’s Belc’s, she needs that.” Hilary turns shout at the locker room in general. “Hey Belc, a porcupine has your jersey!”

Belc’s technically lucky that the Kessels turn into hedgehogs rather than wild boar or grizzly bears, both which cause considerable more panic when they show up unexpected in the locker room, but she was hoping she’d get to be a kitten again. Kittens sometimes got catnip. Belc _loves_ catnip.

“Hey,” Hilary says, her mouth scrunched up in a confused wrinkle, “has anyone seen Belc?” 

Belc huffed at the jersey again. Hedgehogs weren’t very loud, but she figured eventually Hilary would get the clue. 

“She’s not in the showers,” someone calls out and Hilary looks around the locker room again, then back down at Belc. She pushed her snout against the name, and then sat down squarely on the “E”. 

“...Belc?” 

Belc snuffled with success. 

4) 

Belc wasn’t a three year old child any more than he was a 15 year old hockey player, but you didn’t just take a shape without it affecting you. He looked up at Bolland and promptly burst into tears. “I want my mooooooommy,” he sobbed. Bolland looked angry (though to be fair, he always looked angry), and Belc was hungry after practice, and he hadn’t had his nap yet. It was a lot to deal with, and three year old Belc wanted his mom, even if anthropomorphic personifications didn’t have mothers. 

Bolland backed off like someone had set his hair on fire. Belc cried harder, snot running down his face. Distantly, he realized this was the most embarrassing thing he’d done since that one time in Rivendell (he refused to count that time in the Tardis because it was _not_ his fault), but for some reason he couldn’t stop. “Moooooommy,” he bawled. 

Someone picked him up. Belc couldn’t really see who through the haze of tears, but they bounced him up and down gently before stroking his hair. “Hey buddy, hey Belc, hey, what’s up with you, eh? Don’t cry come on now, you’re a hockey player, hockey players don’t cry, eh?” 

Belc still had enough self awareness that he was glad he’d ended up with the right teenager trying to sort out his melt down. His sobs ratcheted down to watery, hiccuppy breaths, mostly muffled against Brandon Prust’s shoulder. “I want mommy,” he said again, as it remained true. 

“Hold on a second, kiddo,” Brandon said, before talking over Belc’s head. “Danny, grab your dad. He needs to see this.”

Belc took the opportunity to wipe his nose on Brandon’s shoulder. Prust looked down at the pressure, the obvious desire to say “ew” warring with the desire for Belc to stop crying. “That’s not nice Belc. Let’s get you a tissue and figure this out, kay?” 

Brandon lowered Belc to the floor, in front of his stall and all the teenager sized equipment he’d just been wearing. “Okay,” Brandon said. He was a bit wild eyed, having solved the immediate problem of crying toddler and now confronting the bigger and stranger problem of “this toddler was my teammate”. Belc felt Prust should count himself lucky. Gallagher would be even more hyper as a five year old, and he would have been racing around the room if Prust put him down, tugging at everyone’s sticks, trying to get Galchenyuk’s attention by yanking on his skate laces. Belc was a relatively well behaved, if mucusy, child, so he just waited for Brandon to come up with his next thought. “Okay,” Brandon said, taking a deep breath. “Can you tell me what happened buddy?” 

5) 

Belc decided to do this one outside of the rink. “So what did you need me to come--” Roberto gets out before he opens the door. He stops dead when he see Belc’s wings, almost seven feet long with bright white feathers, the edges hanging over the rec room couch. 

“So,” Belc says, and then Roberto slams the door. Belc listens, but he doesn’t hear feet thudding up the stairs, so waits. After half a minute the door creeps open again, and Roberto peers around it, quickly withdrawing and slamming it shut as soon as he confirms that yes, Belc still does have wings. Belc wonders whether the rink would have been a better choice after all. 

“I’m sorry that I missed Mass on Sunday,” Roberto shouts through the door. “And that I lied to Coach about my reps in the weight room.” 

“What?” Belc says. He lies on his stomach because the wings are heavy, and he’s never been part Valkyrie before. 

“But I gave to Our Lady of the Way at Christmas and I’ve been trying to cut down on the swearing in the crease!” Roberto bargains. 

Belc realizes that he’s accidentally lead Roberto into the wrong narrative. “I’m not an angel!” he shouts. “I just have wings!”

There’s a pause before Roberto opens the door again. “Since when do you have wings? I feel like I would have noticed if you’d ever showed up at practice with those hanging off you.” 

Belc and Roberto have never actually been at practice together. But Eddie Lack is ten years old and just figuring out how to fly so Belc says, “All my life. But I’ve usually got better control of them than this. I need your help.” 

Roberto comes into the room and shuts the door behind him. 

+1) 

The timing on this one is always difficult. Belc doesn't want their first experience to be “everyone does it in Juniors”, but he doesn’t want to interfere with any relationship, or get too close to when they’re called up to the show.

With Seguin he decides to wait till after the post season, but before the draft. He and Seguin played on the same line for the last half of the season. They’ve watched porn together a few times, Belc rarely has to initiate that, taking turns in the shower of Seguin’s room afterwards.

They’re at a house party, and Belc has a beer or two or three (maybe five, who’s counting?) before he goes to find Seguin. Tyler’s shouting over the music about trying to improve his two way play, but the girl he’s talking to looks unimpressed by his plans and by the way he keeps almost splashing beer on her. 

“Heeeeeey, buddy,” Belc says, throwing an arm of Tyler’s shoulder. “Mind helping me out with something on the porch?” 

The girl takes the opportunity to leave, although Tyler doesn’t seem to really care. That’s what Belc likes about Tyler, he’s easy to please, just as long as he’s got one of his bros. And tonight Belc’s one of his bros!

“Beeeeeelc,” Tyler says back, throwing his arm over Belc’s shoulder. “Sure thing! Let’s do this!”

They stagger off, bouncing against other inebriated teenagers on their way out. Belc sees Tyler Brown hold up a red solo cup in passing salute, and Seguin salutes him back as they keep going. Belc holds up his solo cup too, because it seems like a friendly thing to do. 

They’re standing out on in light breeze of a Plymouth summer night, swaying gently into each other, when Belc realizes that he doesn’t have a plan. He leans against one of the porch columns, because balancing is hard enough while he’s _not_ trying to think. Tyler comes with him, plastering himself against the front of Belc’s body.

“Tyler,” Belc says, with absolutely no idea what he’s going to follow that with, but fortunately Tyler kisses him and Belc doesn’t have to come up with anything. The narrative is bending his way after all! 

“Oh, you--” Belc gasps when Tyler pulls back, biting sloppily at Belc’s lower lip. 

“Yeah, me and Brownie do it all the time.” Seguin's mouth is bright red and he looks extremely pleased with himself. “It’s buddies, right?” 

“Right,” Belc agrees, because it totally is. He’s so glad Tyler understands. Tyler then sticks his tongue down Belc’s throat. It’s super clumsy, and teenaged over-eager, but it’s good. 

“I'm glad we're buddies,” Tyler says, smacking a kiss against Belc's neck.

“Me too,” Belc says. Tyler _is_ his buddie. Tyler’s great. Booze is great. Belc just leans back and thinks about how great everything is, until Tyler manages to coordinate his tongue and his teeth, scattering the few thoughts Belc had in his head. 

Belc gasps and grabs onto Tyler’s shoulder. It’s good that Tyler knows what he’s doing because Belc, for once, has completely lost the plot.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fledgling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807169) by [kitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune/pseuds/kitsune)




End file.
